Chapter 16
Oljin
O ur joining escort is armed priests. And their weapons are drawn.
I force down the pigment that prickles up my spine. This is worse than I expected. Much, much worse.
“Is everything okay?” Rose’s forehead creases.
I smooth the lines away and then fold our hands together. “As long as we’re together, everything is as it should be.”
Pravil’s rasping breaths break the tense silence as he reaches us, panting from his run up the steep cliff, a messenger on his heels. He takes in the assembled escort and his skin flashes—surprise, anger, fear, dread—before settling back to camouflage.
“Alioth smile on us,” he murmurs in greeting, bowing low to Rose and pressing palms with me. “I came as soon as I heard you’d returned.”
“Her teeth are sharp,” I reply, nodding to the gleaming blades that have bloomed around us.
He counts them under his breath. “...Nineteen, twenty. How badly do you want to be king, my friend?”
“It has nothing to do with what I want. This is Alioth’s will.” I hope the priests are listening, since they claim to be her servants. None of this was a choice. If I had a choice, Rose would have a slower introduction to royal life, one with far fewer threats to her life. If I had a choice, we’d still be making love in the grass. If I had a choice, we’d visit a city that met us with celebration instead of suspicion.
“You should turn around, Oljin. Walk away if you can. The things I’ve heard in the pits...” He glances at the priests, who are definitely listening. “Renounce the crown if you have any doubts.”
“I have none. She is my true Alara.” I take Rose’s hand and squeeze it. It will soon be clear to all of them that she is as Irran as anyone in the room.
“Then I’ll stand at your back until to the end,” he swears. Together, we three move as the priests direct, entering the dim of the palace’s passageways. The march is silent, grim. This is not a coronation. It feels more like a trial.
“She’s not a spy,” I tell Pravil tersely, desperate to defend her. “You saw her the day I found her. She was nearly dead.”
“Her recovery was swift,” he murmurs, using the scuff of feet on the stones to cover his whispered skepticism.
My stomach turns to stone. Maybe I should have carried Rose here. Let them see her broken and bruised. Let them see how she suffered to become their queen. But then, they would have said she was too weak. She was too weak. They would have cast her out, and she could not even walk away.
“Blame your mother and her brews,” I growl at him. “Blame the goddess herself. I’m not sorry she is well again.”
Pravil holds up his hands. “I’m not, either. I believe she’s genuine. I swear to you on my mother who gave me life, I would soar from the cliffs before I’d lie to you.”
“I know.” He did not have to accompany us, matched one blade to twenty. He could have stayed in the pits where he only had to face a single opponent .
Rose drops my hand, instead banding an arm around my waist, so we enter the throne room as one. Honhura waits on the blackrock seat for us to approach. Chanísh and the High Priest stand at her right hand, the Frathik delegation in a place of honor at her left.
The rest of the room is ringed with armed priests. I did not know there were so many priests in all of Irra. It isn’t all enemies, though. A few scholars are among them, too, who eye the basket of scrolls Rose carries.
Surprise bursts over many skins when they realize she’s not Irran, though my family’s pigment doesn’t show, and the gray hides of the Frathik delegation are stoic as always.
“Jara and Alara.” The Frathik leader drops to his knee, touching his forehead in their gesture of respect, and the rest of the Frathiks follow suit. I pause in front of him, urging him to rise and press palms instead.
“We are both peoples of Alioth,” I remind him. “Born of the same star mother. Neither one of us need kneel to the other. I’m honored to have you witness our joining.”
“Thank you, Jara. I am honored to be your raskoth , your brother,” he rumbles, pressing his huge, leathery palms with both of us. “Frath congratulates Irra’s new king and queen. May our planets share in the bounty of our star system.”
“Thank you, brother,” Rose repeats, using the Frathik word and earning his instant respect.
When we reach the throne, my mother rises to embrace me. The intake of breath is audible when she does the same to Rose. But when Rose, radiant and smiling, moves to greet Chanísh, he turns his back on her.
Despite days of practice keeping her colors in check, my Alara blooms with anger and shame. The stark, black-and-white display causes as many gasps as her species did.
How dare they judge her for showing her pigment when they could not keep theirs in check? I wrap my arm around her shoulders, claiming and comforting in one gesture. Chanísh’s lips peel back from his teeth, and his hands slip to the hilts of his daggers.
“Brother,” I growl, as ready to kill him as he seems ready to kill me.
“Am I? You call them brother, too,” he hisses, jerking his head at the Frathiks. “And you want to me to call this creature Alara? You have gone mad.”
My mother makes an unhappy sound, and Rose’s arm around my waist tightens. Though she’s aware this is a tense exchange, I’m grateful she cannot fully understand the insult my brother has just given her. Her touch, the touch of my fated queen, reminds me to act like the king I am.
“The goddess brought us together. You and your priests can visit the temple of the Eye and pray if you have argument with her wisdom.”
“Lies,” the High Priest spits from the depths of his hood. “She is an imposter. The goddess would never choose an alien female to rule the grasslands of Irra.”
“Perhaps you do not know Alioth as well as you think.” The jab earns me snarls from the whole line of priests.
Pravil steps between us, one blade against all of them. My friend, my shield, Alioth save him. “Bend your neck to the Jara and Alara on the happy day of their joining.” His low, threatening tone makes the whole room quieten .
Chanísh and the High Priest exchange a long look that speaks to their premeditation. Then the High Priest clears his throat. “There will be no joining today.”
My mother gasps. “Surely, you would not prevent it if it is the goddess’s will?”
“Of course not,” the High Priest answers soothingly. “But her will cannot yet be determined. We will test this purported Alara in the temple. If Oljin’s claim is true, it is only a small delay until the two of them can join.”
He’s lying. The old bastard is lying so much that he can’t keep his dark-purple pigment from rising above the clasp of his cloak. He fears our union and what it means for Irra. He fears admitting that he is wrong. And he should. He will not hold his office much longer.
“The joining today is only ceremonial. She already wears my crown.” I smooth the curls back from Rose’s forehead, exposing the golden flowers blooming there. She beams up at me, her skin flushing lavender, the color of fated love. “See her pigment shine? She is undeniably my Alara.”
Murmurs rise among the ranks of armed shadowcloaks. Chanísh shoots a panicked look at the High Priest, who waves away my brother’s concern. “Who knows what alien pigment signifies. Perhaps that is her natural color. We must study her and pray.” He raises his hand, and behind him, the dark cloaks shuffle forward, ready for his command.
“What is he saying?” Rose asks, fingers digging into my side.
I don’t have time to translate before the boom of a Frathik voice sounds behind us. “My people kneeled to your king, and your own people will not?” The accusation hangs heavy in the air as the priests nervously draw their weapons.
“Take them to the temple,” the High Priest commands. The air is filled with whisper of blades as the priests close in on us, trapping us against the throne.
Chanísh melts back, the dust-mouthed coward. If violence breaks out, he wants his blade clean so he can deny his schemes against me. Whatever test the priests set for Rose, she will fail it. Banishment is certain. Execution probable.
“Oljin,” Pravil says, looking for my direction. “Flee or fight?”
There is no need for more sacrifice today. “Flee, now. Take Rose and Honhura to your mother’s valith.”
My mother gathers the skirts of her sveli and accepts Pravil’s help from the throne. I let go of Rose. “Go with him. He’s the only one I trust. I’ll take care of this and send for you when it’s over.”
Her eyes wide and panicked, she shakes her head, her grip on me tightening. “I won’t leave you. You swore we’d never be apart again.”
“I also swore to keep you safe.” Torn between two promises, my heart is in shreds.
“I’m staying with you,” Rose insists. “We’re staying together.”
I can deny her nothing.
“Jara, we have to go,” Pravil interrupts urgently. I nod to him, and he backs out of the throne room, shielding my mother with his own body.
“Is this the end?” Rose asks me, her hand trembling so much she drops her basket of scrolls.
A scholar darts forward to gather them, and the same impulse rises in me to never let a scroll touch the dirt. I want to kneel and pick them up, spend the afternoon adding more words to her lists before we take them to the archives. I want to carry her back to the grass and make love to her among the efala blossoms. I want to lie to her and tell her no, this is only the beginning.
I tell her the only truth I know. “I love you. All will be well as long as we’re together.” Even if we’re ghosts. She laces her fingers with mine and squeezes, transmitting her understanding.
To my surprise, I find the Frathik leader at my elbow. His eight-eyed delegates surround us, caging us in, their thick hides an unexpected shield. “Rightful rulers of Irra, allies of Frath, I ask you only once. Do you need our aid?”
“Yes.” I say it without hesitation, without a care for the throne I will undoubtedly never sit upon as long as my brother lives. All that matters is Rose’s hand in mine.
“Then we will be your escort,” he says grimly. The group draws their verduks, brandishing the electrified rods like swords as we move as a group toward the exit.
The High Priest shouts for his shadowcloaks to stop us, but most of the priests circling our tight knot of defense are wary to engage the intimidating Frathiks with their bright, buzzing weapons. The few who do find that their epylium blades conduct electricity very well. Their bodies litter the steps behind us as we retreat down the cliffs.
Only when we reach the spaceport, where the Frathiks’ matte, black ship is docked, does the tight knot of defenders loosen, letting Rose and I choose our own path .
“Decide quickly,” their leader says. “Our ship leaves in mere minutes. You are welcome to join us as our privileged guests, but after drawing our weapons in the Irran throne room, I can make no guarantees as to when we will be allowed to return to this planet.”
I cup Rose’s face in my hands, relief thrumming in my chest that she’s safe. “We can hide in the outlands,” I tell her. “I’ll build you a valith with my own two hands, and we’ll keep a herd of braxa. But we’ll have to live in isolation because you’ll always be in danger if we’re discovered. Or we can walk onto this ship as diplomatic refugees, with the hope that someday, somehow, we might negotiate a return. We’ll be safe, but we may never find a way to come back. It’s your choice.”
She puts her hands over mine, pressing them tight against her jaw. “I don’t care where we are. All I want is you.”
“Then we’ll go.”